Winds Of Winter: Alayne's (Sansa) story
by gotgal
Summary: This picks up where the Wind's of Winter sample story left off. I tried to sound like GRRM which is what I think is missing in a lot of fan fics. Let me know if you like it?
1. Chapter 1

**Alayne**

"Ser Lothor Brune? Either you've gone mad or you are trying to make Harry jealous to give Ser Lothor your favor in the tourney," said Myranda Royce while they made their way to the Tourney.

 _Bewitch him._ "Now why would I want an up-jumped squire like Harrold the Horrible to be jealous?" proclaimed Alayne, making Myranda laugh. "Ser Lothor saved my maidenhood from that awful Marillion on the night we first met. I see it fitting to give him my favor." _And fitting to make Harry jealous as well_.

"I believe you are the only bastard in this world with her maidenhood still intact, if I can even believe it is intact." Alayne knew where this conversation was heading so she left Myranda and went to seek the company of little Lord Robert.

He was bundled up in so many furs and leathers that he would have seemed twice his size if not for his little head of long, brown hair sticking up from the furs. "Alayne!" he called out as he stood trying to get her attention. It was a wonder he could stand with all that weight on him. He was frail, and not becoming any less frail as he grew. _I cannot kiss him or call him "sweet Robert" in front of his liege men._ _I'm just Alayne, Littlefinger's bastard_. "My Lord," she said as she curtsied before the young Lord. He didn't understand and was confused at the cold courtesy.

"You are going to watch the tourney with me? I want you to watch with me. I command it!" So Alayne sat with the little Lord as he commanded.

"Who do you think will win the tourney, my Lord?" She asked him.

"Anyone but my cousin, or Ser Lothor..." said Robert. " Why does _he_ get your favor? Do you love him?" Little Robert started twitching.

"Of course I don't. I only gave it to him for the protection he bears me, nothing more, my Lord." Alayne said quickly enough before the shaking could take over him.

"If I was in the tourney, I would have your favor, right Alayne?" He said it more like a statement than a question.

"Yes my Lord, but it wouldn't be fitting of a Liege Lord to step down to the level of a lowly knight. Your place is here, sitting with me."

"I like sitting with you Alayne… I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean-"

"I forgive you; let's not speak of it anymore. If it pleases my Lord." It did please him. They sat there for a while before the tourney began, speaking of The Brotherhood of Winged Knights that were going to be his own personal guard. He talked about how he would only choose the most valiant, like the ones of the tales. _There was I time I believed in tales too, but that seemed many ages ago._

When the tourney finally began both Alayne and the Little Lord were entranced. Watching riders fall, horses charge full speed, and lances burst into splinters. Robert particularly loved when the knights fell. _There will be no blood shed at this tourney_ thought Alayne. Several matches came and went before it was Ser Harrold's turn. Alayne tried to seem the least bit interested as humanly possible. _Entrance him._ Right before the round started Alayne left to look for Petyr, not once glancing at Harry the Heir. She could feel his eyes on her back as she left the tourney. Sadly, it wasn't enough to make him lose his match. Though, he only broke the lance on the first try, instead of knocking off his opponent. Alayne felt a smidge of pride, feeling responsible for the turn out.

When she found Petyr he was talking to a knight she couldn't make out. When they saw her the knight left without a word. "My beautiful daughter, come give me a kiss," said Petyr. She did as he asked. "Why aren't you at the tourney?"

"I could ask the same of you father. I wanted to see you, and I decided leaving during Ser Harrold's match was the best time to do so."

"What a clever girl my daughter is. Come, we'll walk back together; I want to see if he is fuming." So they walked arm in arm and Alayne couldn't be happier with herself. She loved when Petyr praised her wits. She loved the fact that he knew who she really was and didn't treat her like some low Lord's bastard daughter. Even though she was beautiful and was treated kindly, men didn't treat her as she was treated when she was Sansa Stark. Bastard girls are notorious for losing their maidenhoods before marriage and men were always a little more comfortable around her than they would be around Sansa Stark. But not Petyr, he was different. Even though he was comfortable around her, he was familiar. She didn't feel the love for Petyr as Sansa did for her Father Eddard, but she knew she loved him. She loved who he made her become. She was no longer some pawn in the Game of Thrones, she was playing the game. Alongside Petyr, she felt she was playing it well.

When they reached the tourney benches, she sat with Myranda Royce, Lady Waynwood, and a gaggle of other women. The next match was Ser Lothor Brune's. He kissed her favor that he wore with pride and got in place ready to knock the other knight off his horse. Alayne watched intensely. Not taking her eyes of Lothor, she watched him as he gallantly rode down the path sending the other knight flying off of his horse. It almost seemed too easy. As the cheers went up from the crowd, Alayne stood clapping her hands for the gallant knight wearing her favor. "It seems your Brune has got some talent, Alayne," said Myranda.

"Why do you think I chose him to wear my favor?" Though Alayne thought it might have been more than just talent. Now seeing the other knight, she realized it was the same armor the knight talking to Petyr was wearing. _What could he gain by making him fall off intentionally?_ Then, she understood. _He's going to put Harry and Lothor against one another._


	2. Chapter 2

**Alayne**

"And the Mystery Knight won the tourney. When he doffed his helmet, it was the-"

"Winged Knight!" Exclaimed little Robert.

"Yes, very good. Now try and get some sleep, the tourney will end tomorrow and you will get to choose your very own Winged Knights," said Alayne.

"Alayne, I want you to sleep in here. With me," announced Robert.

"As you wish, my Lord," lied Alayne. She let Sweet Robin cuddle against her breasts; she had gotten very used to it now though she still didn't like it. Once the Little Lord fell asleep, she was able to slip out from underneath him. The maester always gave him dreamwine, making him almost impossible to wake up until the morning.

To her surprise, when she arrived at her chambers, Harry the heir was waiting there for her. "If you would excuse me, I would like to get some rest before the morrow. It will be a long day."

"I came here to beg your forgiveness once more, Alayne," said Harrold.

"On your mother's accord or your father's? It was your mother's last time, if I haven't mistaken myself." Alayne said as she walked past him, into her chambers. "Spare me your fake apologies, and I'll spare you my fake forgiveness. Goodnight, Harry." She closed the door in his face. Keeping her back to her door she unfastened the back of her dress. When Harry opened the door she pretended not to notice. _Bewitch him_. He never said a word, so she kept undressing, acting oblivious to Harrold watching through the door way. When she got down to her very revealing small clothes made of an ivory colored silk, she picked up her clothes on the floor and turned around. Harrold and Alayne's eyes met. For a moment, she stared at him and let him stare at her, and at her see-through small clothes. Then she made it stop. Covering herself with her dress she said, "Is this how you treat bastard girls?! Peeping at them through windows or doors?! Did Saffron even want to sleep with you? Or did you rape her and call it love?"

Harrold, agape, turned red, and then turned angry. Alayne feared she has pushed this act a little too far and a little too long. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence Harry spoke through gritted teeth. "I came here… on my _own_ accord to apologize tonight. Again. I did _not_ come here to have my honor questioned!" Harry was slowly walking towards Alayne.

"Honor? Gods, you speak of _your_ honor? You have one bastard, and another one on the way! By two different women, might I add. Then you have the nerve to call me a bastard! And now you are speaking of your _honor_?!" Alayne had let go of her clothing, standing there in just her small clothes. Neither of them had noticed.

"Will you just… forgive me, you maddening woman!" Then Harrold grabbed Alayne's face with both hands and put his lips on hers. In that moment she thought of the Hound's twitching upper lip. His mottled and scarred face. His lips on hers in the dark. She was about to push Harry away, then, she realized _I am not Sansa anymore; the Hound never kissed Alayne. Sansa would never do this_. Alayne put her arms around his neck and pulled him against her body. She slid her tongue into his mouth and as soon as he dropped his hand from her face, she stopped him. She looked into his eyes and they were full of lust and wanting. She backed away a little, never breaking his gaze.

"I'm not just some _bastard_ you can have your way with… I'm not that easy," she said, looking away and covering herself, acting ashamed.

Harry sighed and grabbed her hand. "Alayne… I am truly sorry, I… I didn't…" He didn't know what to say. He couldn't look at her. She knew he was genuinely apologizing to her, not just trying to gain some pawn in the Game of Thrones. _Had this worked? Has he truly fallen for me? No… He has fallen for Alayne. Only Alayne._

"I forgive you… Now please, leave me be Harrold. I wish to be alone. Good luck tomorrow, Ser." Without another word, Harrold left. Once the door was closed, a faint, slow clapping came from the dark corner of the room. Emerging from a shroud of darkness came Petyr.

"I only came to wish you Goodnight and it would seem I got a little show. Well done, daughter," said Petyr. Startled, Alayne grabbed her dress to cover herself once again. "Oh don't bother, I was just leaving." He kissed her on the cheek, laying a hand a little too low on her back.

"Father, I had a question I wanted to ask you earlier…"

"Yes, daughter?"

"What can you gain by putting Ser Lothor Brune and Harry the Heir up against each other?"

"Why else but to have Harry beat him, sweetling. He does have your favor, does he not?" asked Petyr.

"Yes, but… How do you know that Harry will be able to defeat him? If he does defeat him, why would that matter?"

"Ser Lothor Brune is becoming too cocky for his own good, and I would bet that Harrold would love to beat _any_ man wearing your favor. In fact, I would bet that after beating him, he would go on to win this whole tourney just to impress you. If he wins, he would have to become one of the Winged Knights, no matter how much our Little Lord may refuse. And if he was a Winged Knight?"

"He would always be around Lord Robert… and me."


End file.
